


Aquamarine

by alba17



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Sports, M/M, Swimming, Teenagers, bottom!Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-02
Updated: 2012-08-02
Packaged: 2017-11-11 08:24:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alba17/pseuds/alba17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur's summer is all about swimming. Until he meets Merlin. Swim team AU.</p>
<p>
  <i>It’s Saturday. Meet day. At the edge of the pool, Arthur’s every muscle tenses in anticipation of his race.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aquamarine

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I'd polish this one up in honor of the Olympics. Originally written for 2011 summerpornathon, then expanded. Many thanks to tailoredshirt for betaing the original entry, and to venivincere for betaing the expanded version.
> 
> I don't specify an age, but they are high school students. I've warned for underage just in case.

It’s Saturday. Meet day. At the edge of the pool, Arthur’s every muscle tenses in anticipation of his race. His eye is drawn inexorably to the end of his lane, honing in on the spot where his hand will smack the pad to stop the clock. He kicks his legs out one at a time to keep loose. He checks the time, bounces up and down on his toes, adjusts his swimsuit. He mentally rehearses the moment when he dives in.

By this point in the summer, even Arthur’s dreams are drenched in aquamarine, suffused with the steady rhythm of arms stroking through the water, breaths caught in between, in out in out. He lives for swimming, not least because his father holds several of the league’s all-time records. He’s promised Arthur a shiny new sports car if he beats one of them this summer.

Arthur shuts out the people - the league officials gathered in knots, the kids in swimsuits dripping like otters, bug eyes in bright plastic swim goggles. It all fades away, his focus pinpointed on the expanse of blue, the black square on the other side.

Except for this: the older boys like him who preen, bare-chested peacocks strutting in their newly acquired sheen of maturity, all muscles and prickling energy, shoving and joking, tension eddying between them.

He lets that seep in, get in his blood, simmer there.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the other swimmers on their blocks. Only one matters: the boy two lanes down, long and lithe, the unruly mop of dark hair now wet and slicked down. cheekbones sharp and determined. Arthur watches as the boy - Merlin - shakes loose his broad shoulders, swings his arms from which long, elegant hands dangle. The last few weeks they’ve traded first place; one week it’s Arthur, the next it’s Merlin.

His gut tingles, his muscles twitch. He jerks his eyes back to the other end of the pool, the lane in front of him. He sees his father standing there, stern yet reassuring, the lines of his face speaking of expectation, the set of his mouth promising disappointment.

The announcer proclaims the event and everyone goes quiet. The starting signal jolts Arthur into action. He dives into the pool, all his senses zeroing in on that black square at the end of his lane. For the next few minutes, it’s a rush of water, punctuated bursts of arms, legs and breath, working together seamlessly to drive him across the pool, hopefully into first place.

~~

They end up becoming friends. Merlin meets Arthur at the pool early so they can work out together. They go as soon as the pool opens and usually end up sitting on the old picnic table in the playground, drinking sports drinks and talking until one or the other of them has to leave.

Today they’ve stayed longer than usual. There are a couple of old people swimming laps, but otherwise the pool is empty; they’ve got the place to themselves. Their conversation falls silent and Arthur finds himself studying Merlin. He follows a single drop of water as it falls from Merlin’s still-wet hair and down his cheek. Merlin takes a drink. Arthur watches his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. His neck is long and graceful, Arthur observes, like every other part of him. The air cools Arthur’s skin, still wet from the pool, yet he feels hot.

He should leave. He’s got to get ready for work. But he can’t seem to move.

His gaze meets Merlin’s and they stare for a long moment. Arthur’s about to make his excuses, tell Merlin he’s got to go, just to break the tension, when Merlin draws Arthur’s clenched hand to the bulge in Merlin’s black clingy swimsuit. Arthur takes in a quick, shocked breath. Yet his fingers spread eagerly, wanting to touch. In a moment of epiphany, he realises he’s been waiting and hoping for this moment, probably ever since he laid eyes on Merlin.

“I’m not wrong, am I?” Merlin asks. His cock is thickening and hardening right under Arthur’s hand, responding to his touch. Arthur’s pulse is racing because it’s the most exciting thing he’s ever experienced.

“No,” he says shakily. “Fuck, no.”

When Merlin draws him in and presses his lips against Arthur’s, the pleasure is intense and overwhelms him, a bigger high than winning the division championship. A lot of things click into place.

~~

They spend less time swimming and more time doing _other_ things.

The sun is barely peeking between the green of the trees overhead. The pool is quiet in the early morning hours, save for Arthur’s heavy breathing and the wetly sibilant sounds of Merlin’s mouth working Arthur’s cock. Merlin’s hands grip Arthur’s hips, fingers settling in the notch above his hipbones; his wet hair rubs against Arthur’s stomach. The cement is rough under Arthur’s hand as he braces himself on the pool deck, the other hand buried in Merlin’s hair. Merlin’s tucked between Arthur’s legs as they dangle in the blue water. A stifled groan and Arthur comes down Merlin’s throat, Merlin’s lips stretched taut and hungry like they were made for it.

~~

Merlin decides to focus on the backstroke and butterfly, leaving Arthur the freestyle.

Another meet: Arthur’s hands carve through the water, legs scissoring relentlessly, heart thumping a steady bass to the melody of the stroke. The water roars in his ears, the other swimmers just blurs of colour in the nearby lanes. He tenses in anticipation of the moment his hand reaches the pad, when he’ll raise his head out of the water and see everyone else still swimming.

He knows Merlin’s there, bouncing up and down on the deck, waiting for the backstroke. Cheering, maybe calling his name. By now, Arthur knows every inch of Merlin, his legs, lean with muscle, the way they taper into that tight butt that brings Arthur’s hormones slamming to attention whenever he looks at it.

He wants to see Merlin’s smile light up his face when Arthur wins.

~~

He loses by mere tenths of a second.

Later he pounds his frustration into Merlin’s ass, hot, tight, clenching around his cock, well-worked glutes flexing, his back curved into a sensuous line of bone and muscle, black hair clumped damply at his nape as Arthur bites the skin there like a dog with a bone, humping. The darkness settles around them like a warm, humid blanket, the pool empty at this hour, everyone else long gone. Fireflies flit and glow in the gloom; the darkening sky is barely visible above the trees.

Two seconds short of Brian from the the top-seeded team. _Thrust_. Fucking hell, he almost had it. _Thrust_. If he’d just stretched his arm a little farther, pushed himself that much further... Another lunge wipes out his father’s disappointed face looming over the pool’s edge.

Merlin arches into him, works his hips so Arthur’s strokes go deeper.

“That’s it, baby,” Arthur whispers, their skin sealed with sweat, slip-sliding with a squelching sound. Merlin makes a noise pulled deep from his stomach, like he has no control at all, and Arthur comes, sweet and hard, clutching at Merlin’s lean stretch of body, their suits fallen to their ankles in damp bunches, the white Bluefish logo winking through the folds of fabric.

Later, Merlin’s smile brightens the dark. “Next time,” he says cheerfully, a hand on Arthur’s cheek. “Destiny and all that crap.”

Instantly Arthur feels lighter. He looks at Merlin for a moment, warmth settling in his chest. “Yeah,” he says, the truth of it resounding in his gut, “next time for sure.” He seals their mouths together, breath passing between them like a promise, enfolded in the summer night full of the buzz of cicadas and the low ripple of pool water.

~~

“I can’t,” Arthur says.

“Yes, you can.” Merlin’s slick fingers probe. “Just let go. You know you want to.”

It hurts at first, then Merlin’s cock presses in a way that makes Arthur’s mouth go slack and his limbs clench tightly, pleasure rolling through him like thunderclouds before the rain.

“I knew you could do it,” Merlin whispers hotly against his neck. Arthur lets go even more, opening up so Merlin can sink into him further. Merlin’s words fuse with the upsurge of Arthur’s orgasm. Pulses of come lace the grass at his feet.

Arthur thinks he might be just a little bit in love with Merlin.

~~

By the end of the summer, the plaque with the pool’s records has a new entry. Uther Pendragon’s name has been replaced.

500 Freestyle Boy’s Record: 2012 Arthur Pendragon 4:37.68

~~

They drive the shiny new sports car to a secluded park with the top down.


End file.
